The Same
by Black Lilly-chan
Summary: I love my friend Shiny, through everything he's been able to keep everything I tell him a secret. Everything. * ADULT THEMES: SELF MUTILATION AND ABUSE *


Ok people please don't hate me T.T I've tried to update my other stories but I have and excuse!! We just got Microsoft Office 07 and now all of the other documents I had before this are unable to be opened so I have no idea how far I was.

Please don't kill me….. I'm not pretty enough to die (ha-ha there you go Nina)

I will try to update I will, if I don't you can all blame my high school and are welcome to harass the teachers ^^

I don't own Naruto and this is actually a revised version of a story that I already wrote x.x sorry for OC-ness.

I love my fried Shiny, through everything he has been there to comfort me. He's offered me a type of counsel that no one else ever could. Sure it's messed up, but its true none the less.

Before you judge or label me I just want to say I. am. Not. Emo. Just because my hair and clothes are dark does not mean I am automatically a whiny ass poser. There little 'friends' are nothing but paper clips.

My friend Shiny is much more, my friend Shiny is my oh so trusted razor. Call me insane but Shiny has been able to keep everything I tell him a secret, everything. Unlike others.

Shiny came into the picture around the time my mother died. My father blamed me even though she died giving birth to my little sister. He yelled at me and slapped me before landing a solid kick to my stomach.

Afterwards I ran crying and bleeding to the maintenance shed at the edge of our compound. I threw myself down on to a sack of potting soil sobbing. As I was lying there dirtying my face I saw a splash of silver on the work bench.

Slowly I pulled myself up to look at the new object. It turned out to be a razor that one of the landscapers had used to detail some panels. It was still fresh except for a tiny bit of rust in one corner.

This razor was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen in my life. It was smooth, shiny and graceful. Experimentally I drug my finger tip across the edge. Almost instantly a thick drop of blood appeared and trailed down my arm.

The drops lead me to my new target. Firmly I gripped the edge of the razor and drug it deeply across the creepy skin of my forearm. Beautiful scarlet lines bloomed and dripped onto my faded jeans.

That's how I became obsessed with blood and cutting. I don't know how it got so serious but it's become a ritual for me.

Every day at 11 o'clock I pull out a velvet box littered with purple dots and unfold a towel which hides Shiny. I take him and play with him till 11:30 when I go to bed.

I think no one will ever replace my Shiny. There is just no way that anyone could give me the same numbing feeling he does. Some time though I do hope there is someone who can.

Drone, drone, drone that's all they want any of us to be. They feed us the same lies, the same lessons, and the same bull shit about 'how they car'. Its brain washing, the liquid form is in the lunch food.

They stuck the notes in my locker again. 'Emo.' 'How is Shiny?' 'Where's the new bruise Daddy gave you?' 'Freak'. The same letters, same words, different people, one ring leader.

That is on story meant for later. After being thrown around the hallway I make into study hall. I like study hall. No one stares at my clothes and my abnormal green eyes, there all too busy with their work.

I settle in the back row, no one sits within a two seat radius of me, which I also like. My sketch book flies onto the table from my bag on the floor (I've learned how to kick it up with my foot. I begin to draw.

Usually for my drawling I use people around me as models but today my idea came with no model. 10 minutes a torso and neck form, 20 minutes legs and feet appear, 30 minutes detailed wings sprout from the back, 45 minutes a sculpted face with ink black hair and ruby eyes stares at me.

I pull out my shading pens just as my picture walked out of the page. The exact same angel I had just drawn sans wings had strode into the room. No one else but me paid him any attention.

All I could do was hope I wasn't staring with a stupid look on my face. His shorts where black with some kind of red stain, his red and while long sleeve shirt clung close enough to show he was tone but not close enough to be uncomfortable.

Everything was the same, from the sculpted angelic face, to his black silk hair, to those red eyes staring at me with curiosity and caution.

He walks with a slow gait, like he is floating through the air. And he's floating right towards me. Being myself I kept my eyes glued on my work, once again adding detail to the wings.

Without a word he settles into the seat next to me and pulls out his own sketchbook. Slowly he turns the pages with his long ringed finders.

Every page is filled with pictures of horrific deaths and demons with their grotesque heads thrown back in maniac laughter. It is almost identical to my own drawling. As he finally turns to the last page, low and behold it is two angels with broken bloody wings embracing. One is him and the other is me.

When I finally look up from the picture he looks up from mine. For ten minutes we stared at each other. Our eyes flooding with question and the two pictures. Of course the bell rang shattering our staring contest.

I sigh and pack up my things. But as soon as I start to walk up the isle a boy from class sticks his leg out and trips me. This has happened many times before but I never lost my balance. This time I did.

As I waited to impact the concrete I felt two strong arms wrap around my waist. I flick my dark bangs out of my eyes though I didn't need to look to see who it was. Who else would help me?

"I'm sorry." His hot breath hit my neck sending tingles down to my toes. Almost reluctantly he let go of me and picked up my bag."Thank you for helping me." I breathed taking my bag from him, I was still in shock that this boy would help me.

He flashed me a smile that could snuff out the sun "No problem, I always help out another fallen angel." With that he swept out of the now empty room, waving goodbye over his shoulder.

Two blocks latter and the tingle his breath left is still there. No one has ever held me like that, ever. He was also in my other two classes leading up to lunch. Every time I looked up his blood red eyes where smoldering at me.

After the third bell I race to lunch. Since my theory is that they put liquid brain wash in the food I don't eat. I slip out of the side door and make a bee line for my tree.

My tree is my sanctuary here. I come here for lunch, skipping class or just to think after school. Its and ugly knotted old willow tree with ropey roots that could trip you if you didn't watch yourself but they made great chairs. I absolutely loved this tree.

As I prepared to fall into my usual chair I didn't notice that someone else's bag was there. I closed my eyes and fell directly into a certain someone's lap. My eyes flew open and I struggled to get up.

My nose was assaulted by the familiar scent of apples and cinnamon. The boy chuckled as I stopped my struggle and wrapped his arms around my stomach as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

I of course was new to this form of human contact. "Uh…Hi?" wow I'm so lame. Somehow I feel his smile get wider "Hi yourself Kitty." He drolled as he poked my nose. He had a pleasant rich voice.

"Kitty? Why Kitty? My name his Hinata." I said taking the assertive approach. I felt him shrug his shoulders "Dunno you just reminded me of a kitty…Hinata."

I loved the way my name sounded when he said it. He said it like it was something foreign and beautiful, his amazing voice didn't help much either. I put my hand over his on my stomach. "This is no fair, you know my name but I don't know yours." I pouted.

He hugged me closer, sniffing the bare skin of my shoulder before chuckling and answering "My name is Itachi, no honorific if you please." He rested his chin on my shoulder, ever one of his breaths blowing hot air against my neck.

"Itachi." I rolled the name around on my tongue. It sounded like a name that someone would have given a person of power back in the feudal ages. Itachi could pass for a handsome ruler for sure. I rested my temple on this head.

"Itachi why did you help me?" The question had been burning my mouth all day. He chuckled, I could feel the vibrations radiate throughout my chest. He pressed his lips against my shoulder unconsciously but it still causes sparks to fly through my body. "Because Hinata I feel that you and I are the same."

The wind began to make the willow sing around us. 'He thinks he's like me?' my heart began to thump wildly. Had I finally found that impossible someone?


End file.
